Death and Famine on every side
And never a sign of rain,
The bones of those who have starved and died
Unburied upon the plain.
What care have I that the bones bleach white?
To-morrow they may be mine,
But I shall sleep in your arms to-night
And drink your lips like wine!
Cholera, Riot, and Sudden Death,
And the brave red blood set free,
The glazing eye and the failing breath,–
But what are these things to me?
Your breath is quick and your eyes are bright
And your blood is red like wine,
And I shall sleep in your arms to-night
And hold your lips with mine!
I hear the sound of a thousand tears,
Like softly pattering rain,
I see the fever, folly, and fears
Fulfilling man’s tale of pain.
But for the moment your star is bright,
I revel beneath its shine,
For I shall sleep in your arms to-night
And feel your lips on mine!
And you need not deem me over cold,
That I do not stop to think
For all the pleasure this Life may hold
Is on the Precipice brink.
Thought could but lessen my soul’s delight,
And to-day she may not pine.
For I shall lie in your arms to-night
And close your lips with mine!
I trust what sorrow the Fates may send
I may carry quietly through,
And pray for grace when I reach the end,
To die as a man should do.
To-day, at least, must be clear and bright,
Without a sorrowful sign,
Because I sleep in your arms to-night
And feel your lips on mine!
So on I work, in the blazing sun,
To bury what dead we may,
But glad, oh, glad, when the day is done
And the night falls round us grey.
Would those we covered away from sight
Had a rest as sweet as mine!
For I shall sleep in your arms to-night
And drink your lips like wine!

A few random poems:
- English Poetry. Madison Julius Cawein. He Who Loves. Мэдисон Джулиус Кавейн.
- Владимир Высоцкий – Песня конченого человека
- Enter This Deserted House by Shel Silverstein
- Some Kiss We Want by Rumi
- Олег Бундур – Яблоко
- Moon poems by Raj Arumugam
- Life Is Motion by Wallace Stevens
- Single Traveller by P. K. Page
- Telescopes In The Square by Graham Rowlands
- For what’s worth breathing by Rixa White
- In a Sombre Mood by Satish Verma
- Adelgitha by Thomas Campbell
- Sonnet: Oh! How I Love, On A Fair Summer’s Eve poem – John Keats poems
- When Day Is Done by Rabindranath Tagore
- My Garden by Sappho
External links
Bat’s Poetry Page – more poetry by Fledermaus
Talking Writing Monster’s Page –
Batty Writing – the bat’s idle chatter, thoughts, ideas and observations, all original, all fresh
Poems in English
- Little Flute by Rabindranath Tagore
- Light by Rabindranath Tagore
- Let Me Not Forget by Rabindranath Tagore
- Leave This by Rabindranath Tagore
- Last Curtain by Rabindranath Tagore
- Journey Home by Rabindranath Tagore
- Innermost One by Rabindranath Tagore
- Give Me Strength by Rabindranath Tagore
- Friend by Rabindranath Tagore
- Free Love by Rabindranath Tagore
- Fool by Rabindranath Tagore
- Flower by Rabindranath Tagore
- Farewell by Rabindranath Tagore
- Fairyland by Rabindranath Tagore
- Face To Face by Rabindranath Tagore
- Endless Time by Rabindranath Tagore
- Dungeon by Rabindranath Tagore
- Distant Time by Rabindranath Tagore
- Defamation by Rabindranath Tagore
- Colored Toys by Rabindranath Tagore
More external links (open in a new tab):
Doska or the Board – write anything
Search engines:
Yandex – the best search engine for searches in Russian (and the best overall image search engine, in any language, anywhere)
Qwant – the best search engine for searches in French, German as well as Romance and Germanic languages.
Ecosia – a search engine that supposedly… plants trees
Duckduckgo – the real alternative and a search engine that actually works. Without much censorship or partisan politics.
Yahoo– yes, it’s still around, amazingly, miraculously, incredibly, but now it seems to be powered by Bing.
Parallel Translations of Poetry
The Poetry Repository – an online library of poems, poetry, verse and poetic works
Violet Nicolson ( 1865 – 1904); otherwise known as Adela Florence Nicolson (née Cory), was an English poetess who wrote under the pseudonym of Laurence Hope, however she became known as Violet Nicolson. In the early 1900s, she became a best-selling author. She committed suicide and is buried in Madras, now Chennai, India.